


Sickamore

by Astray



Category: Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: M/M, Rated for safety, The Author Regrets Nothing, based on the play, but any headcanon may apply, fighting all the time, mentions of cats, the author is unclear on purpose, their lives is a fight, whoever does whatever to whomever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 18:21:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1194939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astray/pseuds/Astray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Two dancers circling and encircling – the safety of what is known balancing the jeopardy of secrecy. Shouted curses, whispered promises when no one – not even them – would hear. And always this: as one neared the edge, the other followed, places exchanged in a beat, never too soon, never too late. A dangerous game of Verona's ill-fated youth."<br/>In rage and in lust, Mercutio and Tybalt always falls into a deadly pas-de-deux.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sickamore

A step forward and another back, the passe – and a retreat. Blades sing again and their gaze never break – to break away would be treason. A curse fall upon he who breaks the dance – entranced in each other. Lost to the world – friends and enemies would not fall between them. It was sacred ground on which they stepped, the earth enlivened with each stomp or light movement – swift or arresting – fate was played with – and death was but a shadow under them. It was writhing under the blinding sun, dark and merciless, the testament of what was not and would never be.  
Eyes still looking, don't close your eyes until he does – a synchronization of will – both bent to dance – not destroy. So close that heat radiated from their skin, scorching thoughts – movements suddenly more intense – swords could be discarded – first blood is shed. A red line on a shoulder, and the hearty laughter of the man taunting death. Blind rage struck as snake the ankle – daggers out to parry where swords could not. The stakes just grew.  
Insults flying, shouted – or whispered in a lover's tone – whip bodies into motion. Their dance brought them closer to the brink – their feet on the line – one misstep and the chasm awaits. Their shadows embrace with each strike – smothering the hatred that existed only in name. An aggravation, the itch for a fight – and the need of a kindred spirit. They cared not about names – maybe in the beginning but not any longer. The shadows were getting longer and longer, graceful on the golden sand stained red with sunset.  
Night would soon fall – another strike – scratch ribs – a blow that could have killed bar intent. On they danced, rapiers to the ground – and only left-handed weapons – the dance from waltz to a Spanish step – too close to live. Ready to die, and still the taunts – never look away from the fire that burned their skin. Fiery red on their back, on their face, two great cats circling each other. Step forward, step back, one too far – the void's gaping maw crushing bones and thoughts in a whirl. 

An inverted image – darkness pierced by the glow of a burning furnace. Another dance, though now they were standing chest to chest. No weapon in their hands. The maddening steps of heartbeats, drum loud enough to echo. Fingers trailing across heated skin, black streaks preceding, covered by touch. Their gaze a fragmented hold on a control evaporating. Mouths searching – another escape, without insults but taunts still clear. One step forward, force one backward.  
Hands on shoulders, trailed to arms - chest – flanks – skidding over scars old and new. A familiar pace – urgent and breathless – as biting words whispered that no one else would bear witness too. On the brink, and falling across the chasm, the world dyed black and red as gold – limbs turned to shadows with each moves. Rhythm unbroken by kisses, feral hisses – near growls – the animalistic hunger that had clawed at them. Not men anymore but great cats once more circling and falling apart. Control relinquished only for an instant before being reclaimed by a vicious bite to the neck.  
The only hatred was for show, and this time fear fuelled their moves. Fear to lose their kindred spirit. Fear of being at last cast out for a sin they never committed – there were no enemies here. No name of distant kin spoken, but only their given names. Curses setting them aflame – a mad dance of death – and down they spiralled – or up, ill-fated Icarus competing with Ganymede only to fall. But their story was not for day's light – their fights what kept them alive. The blood of a cankered city flowing wildly.  
The fire would die, the shadows would overtake all. A log cracks, a burst of light shedding ink from skin, at once their faces so close, so open – the hard masks threatened with collapse. Eyes bright and this time, it was the killing blow, an intent to pierce as deep as possible, to reach beyond the recesses of each other's soul – for the dancers have to give themselves over to the dance before exhaustion strains. Staring – intent – never breaking the hold – not even when breathe lacked – not even when nails dug scars anew. Back across the chasm, crashing high. 

Two dancers circling and encircling – the safety of what is known balancing the jeopardy of secrecy. Shouted curses, whispered promises when no one – not even them – would hear. And always this: as one neared the edge, the other followed, places exchanged in a beat, never too soon, never too late. A dangerous game of Verona's ill-fated youth. A dance where the name of Capulet was not spoken; a dance where all princely title went unsaid. The final step, passado and thrust – thrown Mercutio and Tybalt under sycamore shade.

**Author's Note:**

> First published 'Romeo and Juliet' work. Due to my unhealthy obsession with Tybalt and Mercutio. They just had my soul for breakfast, those two. 
> 
> That being said, I hope you enjoyed the story - as much as I enjoyed writing it.


End file.
